


Our Own Worst Enemy

by MagmaMuffinz



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Original Character(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-09 04:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagmaMuffinz/pseuds/MagmaMuffinz
Summary: It's been a year since Celeste was separated from Clementine and AJ.She doesn't know where they are. She's not even sure if they're alive. Her hope of finding them deteriorates with each passing day.And somewhere along her wandering, alone and surrounded by nothing but forest, she gets shot.She stumbles upon Ericson's Boarding School for Troubled Youth, and is greeted by helpful, albeit cautious, teenagers who nurse her back to health.Now all she has to do is convince them to let her stay.





	1. Damage Case

Sunrises had always been her favorite.

Clementine laughed at her for it. Her twin sister much preferred sunsets. Whenever Celeste asked why, she would always say the same thing.

"Means we made it another day."

A fair point, Celeste rationalized.

But there was just always something about sunrises that made Celeste wake up early to see them each morning. Maybe it was the vivid colors that she never deemed possible in the natural world that drew her to them. Maybe it was the rising sun's promise of endless possibilities that could happen that day. Maybe it simply made her feel more prepared to face whatever horrors awaited her. She was never sure.

She just really enjoyed sunrises.

She wished she could've enjoyed that morning's sunrise. The oranges and purples and yellows were the most vibrant she had ever seen them, and they spiraled and dissolved into one another to paint the sky with one of the most beautiful masterpieces she had ever seen.

But alas, she was too preoccupied with the fresh bullet that was now embedded in her abdomen.

She wasn't sure where it came from. The only warning she received was the loud, resonating BANG that echoed from the barrel of a gun, and then there was nothing but a searing pain she had never experienced before shooting through her stomach. She felt the agony in every single nerve, in every single ligament, in every single blood vessel that she had. Her body felt as though it was on fire, and a white-hot sensation pinpricked at her throat.

She felt like she was going to vomit. But she ran.

Why, she wasn't sure. She just did.

It probably seemed pathetic. _If_ she survived this, and if she was asked about that one time she was shot in the forest, she would have to come up with some sort of motivating story about never giving up and pushing through the pain you view as unbearable.

Seemed more uplifting than simply saying, "Not sure why I fought for my life."

Truly, up until that very moment, Celeste's will to survive continued to dwindle into nothing but a pitiful puddle of self-despair. If Clementine was there, she would chastise her, tell her that she was the strongest person she knew, that she had to keep fighting for her and AJ.

But Clementine wasn't there. Not anymore. She might've been dead, for all Celeste knew.

Or worse.

And despite all this, she continued to run. Blood dripped from her abdomen, staining the light fabric of her jeans, exhaustion began to wind its arms around her figure, the pain only progressively got worse, and the bullet jostled inside of her with each step she took.

But she kept running.

Clementine would be proud of her, she decided.

Her body, however, was an entirely different story.

With each step she took, her body ached just a little bit more. It screamed in irritation at Celeste, warning her that she was pushing herself beyond her limits. It commanded her to stop, to collapse on the ground beneath her, to allow the darkness to consume her, vulnerability and probable death be damned.

At least she wouldn't be running anymore.

The amount of blood she had lost was staggering. The adrenaline that had forced her forward had now vanished, replaced with the shock that Celeste had long awaited. Her pain had disappeared and was substituted for numbness, which she knew was far worse than any torture she would experience.

Her time was growing short. There was no sign of any community, of any civilization, of a single living soul. She was only accompanied by the trees that surrounded her, almost taunting her, laughing at the inevitability of her death.

And then she saw it.

At first, it was just a gate. And then it became a gate and four walls. And then it became a whole damn community.

She nearly laughed. Nearly.

The first person she had come across in nearly two months was a teenage boy who stood at the top of a watch tower, a bow in his hand and blue eyes alert and scanning for any danger on the perimeter. His face was caked in a thin layer of dirt and grime, and dried blood was plastered upon the fabric of his jacket.

But he was a person. A living, breathing human being. That was good enough for Celeste.

Her body had doubled over in pain now, her once steady breathing had been reduced to short, labored breaths, and she was limping pathetically towards the boy. She meant to raise an arm in his direction, to shout for help, to do virtually anything to warrant his attention.

But the war she had long fought with exhaustion had now ended, with exhaustion becoming the obvious victor, and Celeste no longer fought the pull she felt to collapse.

The darkness eventually consumed her peacefully.

It was only then did the boy notice the girl, his surveying eyes snapping over to the thump of her limp body hitting the ground. His shoulders tensed, the hairs on the nape of his neck stiffened immediately, and as he clambered down the ladder of the watch tower, he shouted a single word that, although meant for a single person, snagged the attention of everyone in the community.

_**"MARLON!"** _


	2. Way Down We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stranger (NOUN):  
> a person whom one does not know or with whom one is not familiar.

Mitch was never fond of strangers.

To be fair, no one in the apocalypse was fond of strangers. They were such an unknown variable in the world where evil triumphed over all, and what people didn't know, they feared. How could someone ever be sure that they were safe while in the company of someone they have never known? It had forever been a gamble between someone proving themselves as a valuable asset or someone slitting your throat as you slept. Self-preservation, unfortunately, had now prioritized itself over morals and ethics, and while many people were just trying to survive, others would stop at nothing to gain an advantage over the inferior.

That was precisely why Mitch was never fond of strangers.

He would never admit it, but the unknown scared him. Since the apocalypse began, he had always known what he was facing. Walkers were static; a never-changing obstacle that would forever wish to devour him. He knew what walkers were, he knew how to kill them, and he knew that they would remain stagnant.

It was comforting, in a way.

But the unknown? You could never be sure of what you were facing. Weakness among the enemy was no longer present, no longer offering a solace in knowing that you could defeat the evil that threatened to kill you. The unknown had always been an enemy that no one could strategize against. There were no plans to be created, no weapons to be developed, and no preparing to be initialized. Unknown variables were terrifying.

That's exactly what strangers were. Unknown variables.

And despite his prejudice against strangers and the uncertainty that came with them, hesitation was one of the few emotions that wasn't a piece of the puzzle in his frazzled brain. The speed with which he flew down the watch tower's ladder would have been entertaining, if a battered and severely bleeding girl hadn't just collapsed outside the front gate.

"MARLON!" It was a commonly known fact among the school that Mitch rarely ever displayed an emotion that wasn't anger. It simply was a part of Mitch that everyone had come to terms with. His notorious short-temper for anything that he didn't agree with always caused the rage that hibernated deep within his chest to flare up until he himself exploded in a cloud of insults and complaints.

So it rightfully terrified the leader of the community when his lookout's call echoed with a worried trill that was not typical to usually-angered tone.

Billows of dust rose from the ground where Mitch dropped from the rungs of the ladder, too impatient and worried for the fate of the girl to descend the rest of the way. The gate screeched in protest when he shoved it open, obviously unaccustomed to the force in which it was pushed with, and tension arose in the courtyard at the deafening sound that was sure to snag the attention of anything within the immediate radius.

And they were right. Walkers, who had been lingering not ten meters from the gate, greedily latched onto the sound, gurgling and groaning as they began to advance towards the injured girl and the boy who was rushing to retrieve her.

Mitch nearly tripped in his desperation to reach her, recovering quickly and sprinting to reach the girl as the walkers grew near. His nose crinkled in disgust at the potent smell of iron that emanated from the pool of blood that surrounded her, and he hastily scooped her fragile frame into his arms as the pressure of the situation began to bubble up in his stomach.

A grunt of pain escaped his mouth as the wound that festered on his arm protested, irritated at the sudden pressure placed upon it.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't still pissed at Willy for cutting him with that knife.

When Mitch rushed back to the entrance of the school, just narrowly avoiding the rotting fingertips of the walkers that had descended upon him, the entire school had gathered at the gate, mixed expressions painting each of their faces. Some were afflicted. Some were apprehensive. Some were calm.

At the front stood Marlon, authority practically radiating from him, his waiting arms outstretched to Mitch.

"Here, I'll take her." He offered, his arms beginning to reach for the unconscious girl that lay in Mitch's arms, as if he was eager to take her off of Mitch's hands. The leader within him had presented itself, clear and cool-headed while the teenagers surrounding him gazed at the girl with restless concern.

"No, I've got her." Mitch quickly jerked the girl away from Marlon's approaching arms, concealed certainty that he never used while speaking with the leader beginning to peak out from his voice.

The girl jostled and groaned at the sudden movement, murmuring something intelligible that nobody could understand, but simply grew limp again seconds after.

"Mitch, give her to me. Your arm is still healing-"

"I said I got her." It wasn't out of character for Mitch to be so brusque and snap at Marlon. Everyone who had ever known Mitch knew that he could be a bit hard-headed. Stubbornness was just a part of him, and it always had been, much like the temper that got him into his fair share of disputes, but he would typically apologize to whoever he grew harsh with soon after.

So, watching as the tension rose between the two boys, the teenagers initially expected that Mitch would soon excuse himself by assuring Marlon that he meant nothing by it. They were certain that he would simply hand the girl over to Marlon and return to his post. His respect for Marlon's leadership would surely overpower the bizarre obstinance he was displaying.

To say that they were shocked when Mitch simply scoffed and shoved past Marlon would be an understatement.

"We're wasting time. She needs help. Now." The impatience in his tone as he advanced towards the main building seemed to shake everyone from the shock that radiated across the courtyard. Ruby, rolling her sleeves and pushing them up her forearms, immediately rushed to join Mitch's side, inspecting the girl's visible wounds and barking orders at the remaining students.

And most jumped into action as Ruby's commanding voice resonated across the courtyard, some following Mitch and Ruby into the administrator's building at Ruby's request while others ran off to retrieve the supplies that Ruby had demanded they grab. The stunned silence that had enveloped everyone not a minute prior had now transformed into hushed bustling as the school practically lit up at the arrival of an injured girl whose blood had left a crimson trail across the green grass of the courtyard and whose breathing was pathetically labored and shallow.

Marlon was the only one who remained in the same position he had been standing in since Mitch shoved open the gate. It was as if cinderblocks were tied to his ankles, physically preventing him from joining his friends and the girl whose life was obviously in peril.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to join them.

It felt as though the wind had been kicked out of him. As if he had been punched in the stomach and then kicked in the ribs.

Mitch had never stood against him like that. Ever. No one had. No one dared.

Until that very moment, everyone had agreed with his leadership. It was true that he was questioned about the choices he made daily, but most eventually understood that he had lead this group for years, that he was the one who instilled hope within their hearts when the adults left them with nothing but fear and darkness, and that he knew what was best for their community and their survival.

But he had never once been defied like that. Not privately, not publicly. It made him want to vomit.

Sure, it was a minor issue that most would probably forget about soon, if not already, but it was a minor issue that left him wondering about the future.

What if they began questioning more of his decisions? What if they began questioning his leadership entirely? Paranoia was a overwhelming evil, something he had fought with desperately ever since he traded the twins for assured safety, and now it had manifested into something that prioritized his insecurities of being a leader and had him glancing behind his shoulder every single second of the day.

How much longer would he be able to cling onto the foolish hope of never being thrown out of leadership? How much longer would his community believe that he was the best individual fit to lead them? With his lookout defying his orders in the presence of the entire school, how much longer would it be before more people to start questioning him?

His decisions?

His ability?

"Marlon, dude. You good?" He blinked. And he was back. And his best friend was standing in front of him, worriedly shaking his hand in Marlon's face. He breathed a sigh of relief when Marlon's eyes flickered to his face.

"Whew. You scared me there. Thought I lost you to the void." The crooked grin that seemed to be glued to his face every damned day returned, and Louis shoved his hand deep into his coat pocket after Marlon shooed it away from his face.

Marlon had always been envious of Louis. Envious of the way that his happiness never seemed to waver. Envious that he could grin and _mean_ it.

"Very funny, Lou."

"Huh. That didn't sound genuine." Louis clicked his tongue and joined Marlon at his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and heaving a sigh as they watched the final student, Willy, rush up the stairs of the administrator's building and join the others within. It was silent in the courtyard, contrasting to the typical chattering that occurred in the mornings, and the sun had begun to peak over the horizon, dipping the entire environment in a relaxing golden glow.

"Never a dull day, is there?" Louis offered, turning and observing Marlon as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, furrowed and unfurrowed his brow, before he ultimately sighed and shook his head in response.

"Nope."

Louis paused. Took a breath. Remained silent for just a second too long. Marlon turned to him, arching an eyebrow in silent question.

He was looking forward, grin no longer in place. His arm slipped from Marlon's shoulders and he crossed both it and his other arm across his chest. He looked... thoughtful. Something that was never typical of Louis.

"What's up, Lou?" Usually, it was Louis asking Marlon that question. Though practically joined at the hip, Marlon never enjoyed sharing his feelings with Louis, or anyone for that matter, opting instead for letting them fester and bubble within him until he exploded behind a closed door and away from any watchful eyes.

Louis was aware of his distaste for allowing his feelings to prioritize over the good of the community. It didn't stop him from asking Marlon if he was okay on a daily basis.

But the roles had reversed, if only for this single occasion. And Louis had yet to answer him.

He was silent for a few more lingering seconds, and Marlon was about to ask him if he was okay, but was stopped when Louis turned his head to address him directly.

"I wouldn't worry about Mitch." He breathed out, as if he was anxious to say it. Marlon chuckled, out of relief or amusement, he wasn't quite sure. At least Louis hadn't had a truly worrying emergency he wished to discuss.

"That's it? Thought you were gonna say something much more important. Silence isn't exactly your thing, Lou." Marlon playfully bumped his shoulder into Louis', and Louis couldn't help but laugh as he was slightly pushed off balance.

"Yeah, I know. I just knew that's what you were thinking about. It's kind of easy to read what you're thinking. Been your best friend for years now." His eyes flickered to dirt beneath his feet before meeting Marlon's again, and buried deep within, visible only if you squinted, were the insecurities that Marlon refused to reveal.

They were the insecurities that he once shared with Louis.

Louis ignored the sharp pang that tugged at his heart.

"I'm not worried about Mitch." Marlon shrugged nonchalantly, returning his gaze to the courtyard, and if you weren't Louis, you would _almost_ believe him.

Louis could feel it; Marlon was attempting to push him away. To shut himself off and strip himself of any emotion that would even remotely humanize him.

"Liar." Louis accused, eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing as Marlon let out a sigh.

"Okay, yes. I'm worried about Mitch."

And Louis could practically feel his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. His eyes widened dramatically and his neck snapped over to his best friend, and he watched as Marlon gazed at the administrator's building in thought. That was the first time Marlon had admitted that he was anything but "okay" in... God, how long had it been? Weeks? Months? Louis wasn't sure.

But he was sure of this moment, of this confession. Marlon had finally offered Louis something that wasn't a complete lie to try and soothe his worries.

It was Louis' job to ease his tension.

"There's no reason to be. You know how Mitch is. He'll probably apologize soon."

Louis grinned.

"And besides, he probably only got upset with you because you were trying to take a pretty girl from his arms." Marlon responded with a chuckle and a nod of affirmation, silently agreeing with Louis' theory, though the irritating call of doubt refused to stop clawing at his throat.

He'd ignore it. For now.

When he turned to face Louis, a smug grin was playing at the corner of Marlon's lips.

"Oh, so you think she's pretty?"

Red slightly dusted at Louis' cheeks, and he grit his teeth in irritation.

"Shush. Let's go inside."


End file.
